It all started with the confession of the baseball idiot.
Not that he, Gokudera Hayato, the tenth's right hand man, took it so seriously, because who would even listen to the baseball idiot ?
No ; it did not even sound like the idiot was admitting to him or something. He just considered it that way because of the scenery.
It was a late afternoon, the tenth had went home early, refusing his offer to walk along ; and of coarse, being the right hand man, he allowed the tenth some space. This was when everyone left class and he was the last one out.
Once he was outside of the school, the baseball idiot was there to greet him.
He scowled and waved him off, claiming that he did not need some idiot to walk him home. Which was true, since he was not a kid.
Yet since their houses were the same way, he had to put up with the bickering of nonsense coming from the taller student.
He ignored it all.
That was until the baseball idiot grabbed his arm, making them both stop.
He had thrown his head back to face the idiot, scowling for the hand to let go, but the idiot did not let go.
No, instead, the baseball idiot pulled his arm closer making him stumble back into the arms of the idiot
That was not it though.
The baseball idiot then wrapped his arms around his body.
He struggled ; of coarse, who would have not struggled if some idiot just randomly pulled them back for a hug ?
And then the idiot leaned in next to his ear and spoke in a calm, soothing, and-- he hated to think of it-- but fucking sexy voice.
The words that were said impacted him. Those ' Hey, Gokudera ; I want you to come to my game tomorrow ' words.
Of coarse, to regular eye ; it was nothing.
To him though, it was a serious fucking case.
He rejected the offer immediately. There was no fucking way that he would be seen at some idiot's game.
Not to mention about his and the idiot's fan girls too.
Tch.
That was not it either.
Just as he rejected the words, the baseball idiot tightened his grip around his body more, and used a hand to tip his chin up.
It did not end there either.
He kicked and attempted to scratch the other, seething in rage from the position they were in in front of the whole world ! And what would the tenth say about it too ?!
But no, the baseball idiot did not stop there.
He leaned in. Bringing his face at least an inch or two away from his.
A simple ' please ' was slurred from the idiot's mouth.
And it fucking made him weak in the legs.
He thrashed, allowing a string of curse words to withdraw from his voicebox.
The idiot did not let go. The argument started there.
The baseball idiot suggested that he needed some outdoor activity ; so coming to the game was the best. He responded back with the fact that he already had enough ' outdoor activities ' to do.
The baseball idiot said that he would need someone to cheer him on. He replied with the fact that he was not cheering for anyone except the tenth. Ever.
The baseball idiot claimed that it would exciting and fun for him and the tenth. He snorted back that the tenth would not even be there, and baseball was definitely not exciting.
The baseball idiot voiced that he needed someone there to smile at every time he hit a home run. He retorted back that if he did go ( which no way in hell he was ), he would be hidden among the people, and the idiot would not find him. Or he would just ignore the smile.
The baseball idiot then decided that he needed to impress someone . . . with baseball ! He sneered, and changed the subject to something else that went along the lines of ' Let me go, you fucking baseball freak ! '
He still did not let go.
And that resorted to nearly begging ; the baseball idiot whispering the words ' please, please, please ' over and over again.
When that did not work, the baseball idiot took it a step further.
That included the sudden change of hand position. The idiot's right rested on his left shoulder, wrapping around the front, his left hand around his stomach area. The words of begging - ness strung longer, soother, seductively.
He did not give up on escaping, which gave the baseball idiot idea that he needed to take another step further.
This included the constant tickling of his neck by the soft breathing on it ; right hand squeezing his shoulder ; mouth closer to ear, blowing wind in it slightly, making him suddenly shiver ; a tighter embrace ; and more pleads.
It did not work. Of coarse not ; he was, after all, Gokudera Hayato, the tenth's right hand man.
Then, there it was. Another fucking step further.
He wanted to be at his own house now. Fuck ; he had rather be doing homework at this fucking point.
But no, the idiot did not let him go.
Instead, the idiot brought his fucking lips to his fucking neck, and fucking ran it up and down that one side.
And he, never ever in a million times a hundred years, will admit that it felt fucking good.
It did not end there.
The baseball idiot ran towards his ear, whispered those ' pleases ' and then lowered back down to his neck where he licked.
He jumped. Who would not ?
String of curses came out of his lips.
The right hand which was on his shoulder, now slid up to hold his chin again, making him face him.
He scowled at the sight ; mostly because the baseball idiot looked like he was fucking drunk ; eyes half - lidded, lop - sided smile.
The baseball idiot had seemed to taken a like to his response, and redid his action of pressing his tongue against his fucking neck.
This time though, he was ready, or at least he thought. He had controlled himself from jumping, but that did not stop him from not suppressing an awkward sound that sounded much like a moan or something.
It better not have been a fucking moan, because if it did, the baseball idiot would probably do it again.
Eventually, his thoughts came out wrong.
The baseball idiot had heard his response completely wrong. This lead to another event in having his back slammed against a fence.
And it fuckinghurt like hell. Since it felt like a fucking nail or something was against his back.
Though it did not seem that the baseball idiot noticed his pained expression. Instead, the stupid idiot leaned in and-- and . . . and
Fuck.
It surprised him. He definitely did not think the idiot would . . . would be that fucking stupid in the fucking head.
The fucking stupid baseball idiot slammed a hand next to his ear, where a fucking nail was stuck out ( after probably being nailed from the other side too far, because the nail was too fucking long ), and nearly killed himself.
He half wished the nail did fucking kill the fucking stupid baseball idiot.
And even so, when the idiot removed his hand, he looked at it for a few seconds, then laughed.
The fucking stupid baseball idiot laughed.
Who fucking laughs when their hand is spilling blood ? Fresh blood.
It was not a lot ; the baseball idiot better think of himself as lucky to only slam his hand down, and have the fucking nail pin the point between his thumb and pointing finger.
Away from the blood, he started cursing the idiot out ; saying how stupid the fucking baseball freak was.
During his little ' lecture ' of what the tenth would say, the hospital, and such, the laughter died, and the grin slowly faded.
And not in a billion times eight thousand fifty - nine times would he admit that he suddenly feel fucking cold whenever the idiot's stupid smile disappear from his face.
But that did not stop him from shouting at the other for being stupid.
What did though, was something he had never expected.
He was half way through his words about how baseball was fucking stupid when the damnfucking stupid baseball idiot sealed his lips with his.
The blow took him for surprise ; the shock lasting about five seconds before he started using his hands to push away.
Once successfully managing to kick the idiot away, he fucking ran. Like a fucking coward.
He did not even look back. He just fucking ran as if some huge fucking dinosaur was after him.
It did not take long for him to reach his house, throw the fucking door open, step in, and slam it shut, locking every fucking lock there was on it.
Then he ran to the living room, jumped on the couch, nearly knocking it backwards in the process, and sat, rocking back and forth with his knees pulled up to his chest.
He was angry.
Half at the damn fucking stupid baseball bastard, and half for running like a fucking girl with toilet paper stuck to her heels.
All thoughts halted when there was a knock on the door. He did not move ; he did answer ; and he definitely did try to ignore it.
The knocking paused every ten seconds, began again, and repeated the order for three straight minutes.
Then, the knocking stopped.
He felt slightly relaxed before regaining his posture, telling himself that it was just nothing. At. All.
After what seemed like three hours later, he removed himself from the couch, heading towards the door. He needed a smoke to calm his nerves-- the rest of his nerves,
Opening the door, he was immediately warfed into the night sky.
It only lasted a second because he was suddenly attacked.
Once more, he found himself against his own wall, with the fucking idiot's body pressed against his, lips kissing wildly, hard enough to leave a bruise.
It was not even after two seconds that he felt the idiot's tongue shove into his mouth.
He. Nearly. Choked.
And it was not a humorous matter either.
His arms were weakened by the impact, his legs gave way-- but by the arms of the idiot, supported him from falling.
fuck, he felt so weak.
The tongue of the other explored, making sure to take in every corner of his fucking mouth.
Before the idiot could continue, he bit. Hard.
The kiss was brought to a sudden halt ; he inwardly cheered for his clever - ness.
Then, he tasted blood. He had actually bitten that hard ? To make the bastard bleed ?
. . .
Fucking AWESOME !
And yet, when the baseball freak still did not move away, he had to find his strength to shove that fucking idiot off.
The idiot stumbled back, his hand hovering his own mouth, a single tear of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. And the glowering - all - serious look was back.
He, being himself, folded his arms across his chest and huffed, telling off that what the idiot did was not the right thing to do.
This time, the idiot did seem to be listening. Good.
Around ten minutes passed, and when the idiot did not say anything in response to his ' lecture ', he had turned and headed off towards the kitchen, telling-- no, demanding the baseball idiot to get the fuckout.
He then did not know if the idiot left or not ; but the house was suddenly too quiet. And it bothered him.
With a sigh, he made way back to the front door ; it was opened, but the bastard was not there anymore.
He was not sure, but a awkward feeling washed over him at the point before he closed the door behind him. He still needed that smoke.
It was not even thirty minutes that he had went back inside, throwing the leftover cigarette over his shoulder. The whole time he was suppose to be enjoying his smoke, he thought of the idiot. Once he could not stand it any more, he decided to leave.
Inside, he had felt the same, awkward emptiness in his house ; as if something was missing . . .
If the fucking baseball bastard took anything, he would fucking blow his ass to Italy.
So there he stood, for fifteen fucking minutes, staring around his house, waiting for what was missing to pop into his mind.
It never came.
Giving up, he headed towards his room.
The familiar smell of cigarette uplifted in his room ; he ignored it, but it did calm some of his nerves. Glancing at the clock, he had seen that there was time to shower. Holding that thought, he did exactly that.
He, the tenth's right hand man, did not plan for the showering to be an hour and a half long. Though it was refreshing, and cleared his mind, so he could not complain of such.
Thirty minutes later, the lights were turned off, and the time to nap was put into place.
He ignored the constant thought of the idiot that kept creeping into his mind. It was ridiculous how a baseball freak could even be a topic to think about !
. . .
According to his alarm clock, he had slept a good two hours before waking up.
Fuck, it sounded as if someone snuck into his house.
Sitting up, his hand had ran through his hair, before giving an irritated sigh.
Then, something else happened.
And by scent ( he did not even know how he recognized the smell ), he could tell clearly that it was that fucking baseball bastard.
Exactly as that thought ran through his mind, his fingernails started scratching, his legs thrashing, trying to rebel against the two arms that had made its way around his fucking body.
The baseball had not spoken anything until a well the minutes later.
And all the fucking bastard said was two words.
" I'm sorry. "
Of coarse, there was a slim chance in having him hear what the idiot had to say, but he had heard, and yet, pushed it aside.
Another ten minutes passed quite slowly, but the idiot had finally released his arms.
He had scrambled from the darker area, making his way half - way across the room, snarling and spitting foul words at the idiot for sneaking in at midnight for no fucking reason.
And the idiot had replied with the ' fact ' that he had been in his fucking room ever since he went to the kitchen, and told him to leave.
Because of that, he threw more forceful words at the idiot, calling the bastard every word that was illegal, and legal under the moon.
He was definitely not satisfied until the idiot had escaped through the open window.
The next morning had been bad also.
For one, the fucking baseball freak had stopped by, bag of sushi in the left hand, a baseball bat in the other. And he came dressed in a fucking baseball uniform.
He had slammed the door in the idiot's face, but somehow, a few minutes later, ended with the baseball freak in his house anyway.
After the short meal he had had of the sushi ( he did not want to eat much, due to the fact that that might mean that he actually liked the sushi the idiot made ), the convincing words came back.
He drowned the words away with loud music, chasing the idiot out.
Just as he closed the door and thought it was finally over, and he had escaped, the bat caught in the door, and it was forced opened, revealing a ' serious - faced ' Rain Guardian.
He tried to slam the door once more, but was pushed back, due to the sudden force.
He scowled, backing when his door slammed opened, and the bastard stepped in.
Withdrawing his dynamites from the back of his belt, he quickly lit each one in between his fingers.
Though, just as he raised his arms to fling them at the idiot, the other's hand grabbed both of his wrists, squeezing tightly until the weapons fell from his arms. They were then distinguished with the foot work of the Rain Guardian. He scowled once more.
The bastard had him pressed against the wall again, a hand holding both of his above his head, hard against the wall.
A leg pressed against that part of him, making him suffer from another one of those awkward noises.
That began the teasing.
At first, the fucking idiot simply moved his leg around, shifting it in many positions that made him pant softly ; he disliked that.
Secondly, the bastard's fucking mouth. Oh, fucking shit. It felt fucking nice against his neck ; he hated that.
Thirdly, the baseball freak's other hand was roaming his body. fucking hell ; he despised that.
And lastly, fucking shit of a bastard, the fucking voice ; he loathed that completely.
Not only was the baseball bastard was ' turning him on ', but fuck, it felt fucking good ; and definitely not in a good way.
After two minutes or so in the repeatedly same process, he could not help but started panting the word ' stop ' over and over.
But no, the idiot did not stop.
Instead, the fucking baseball bastard had pressed against him harder.
And when the idiot rubbed against him, he could not stop it. It came suddenly ; out of control.
A moan. A fucking moan. Of the bastard's name. And the fucking idiot was ' turned on ' by it.
Fuck.
After that, came a string of moans and groans of the bastard's name.
He hated every second of it.
And the idiot was seducing him with that fucking look.
Then-- the bastard pulled away, a well two feet away.
He snarled ; despising the words he had spat out at the idiot. They were along the lines of ' you fucking bastard, get the fuck back here and-- ' Stopped half way, and began with ' GET THE FUCK OUT ! ' once more.
The idiot began pleading for him to come to the game again. He refused. Yet when the other had said that the tenth was coming, he took time to answer, already knowing the reply, and finally responded a ' tch, fine. '
A few minutes later, he had gotten a call from the tenth, claiming that the stupid cow had done something again, and he could not come. When he had started to turn back, the tenth said that he should go watch ; and not wanting to go against the tenth's wishes, he went to the fucking idiot's baseball game.
So here he was now, watching the time on the clock, wishing it would fucking run quicker so the game would be over.
Judging from the sky, it looked as if it was around seven still, perhaps eight.
The sky did not look too well either.
Though, on the good side, the game was nearly over, or it seemed like it.
Due to the thundering from above being seen and heard, some of the audience left.
And then the game ended-- fifteen minutes later.
A light drizzle of rain was started, the crowd starting to evacuate quickly. He stood up to leave, yet sat down and scowled when the crowding became bigger.
He would have to wait.
So he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally.
Standing up again, Gokudera shoved his hands in both of his pockets, ignoring the soft pattering of rain on his head that changed his hair to a slightly darker color than usual.
Even if the stadium was still packed, he found way out.
That would be the first and last time he would see the idiot play. It was fucking stupid. The idiot and the game.
Ignoring the rain completely, he withdrew a cigarette from the pack, lit it, and continued on his way home, allowing the rain to drown out the sounds of the audience's chatter about the stupid game.
The idiot was probably back, celebrating their team's win. He did not care.
Just at that thought, he felt a hand clasp around his wrist, then pull back.
The fucking baseball bastard.
He snarled.
It was the same scene from yesterday, all over again.
" Thanks for coming, Gokudera. "
He snorted loudly. " I only came here because Tenth wanted me to. "
The embrace was tightened.
" Thanks anyways though. I feel happy that you watched the game. "
Of coarse the idiot was happy. He was always happy. Fucking idiot.
" Yeah, whatever. Now, let the fuck go of me, do you know how fucking weird this looks ?! "
" Hmm ? Haha, I don't care, " the idiot's nose brushed against his neck, and from sound, inhaled deeply. " I like you, Gokudera, "
What ?
" You fucking bastard ! I said LET. GO. "
" I don't want to, though. "
" I'm getting soaking wet, you bastard ! "
" Mmm, I'll dry you off later. "
" You ? Are you fucking deaf ?! LET ME G-- DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU FUCKING BASEBALL FREAK ! "
The idiot laughed. Actually laughed. Again.
He hated that laugh. So free ; so . . . addicting to listen to. Fuck.
" I like you, Gokudera. "
" Do I look like I care ? NO ! I don't care ! Get OFF me ! "
" I like you, Gokudera. "
" I swear I'll blow your fucking head off if you do not shut the FU-- "
" I really like you, Gokudera. "
" WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING ?! SHUT THE FUCK UP ! "
" Sorry . . . haha, I guess I was expecting you to say it back . . . "
" LIKE HELL I WILL ! "
The Italian huffed slightly, trying to pry the arms away from him. They did not budge.
" Bastard ! LET GO ! "
The arms tightened once more, if that was even possible.
" I don't want to let go, Gokudera. You'll run away if I do. "
" LET ME G-- "
" I don't want to. "
" YOU BASTARD. LET ME GO-- "
" Gokudera. "
His chin was cupped and jerked back to face the other as before.
" Fucking baseball idiot, are you too fucking stupid to understand Japanese ?! "
" Just one more time. "
" What do you mean ' one more '-- mmhmph. "
His eyes widened slightly from the impact of the lips from the other, but found no strength in rebelling against it.
The rain no longer felt light, yet that could be because of the darkening of the weather. Each droplet sounded hard against his head, becoming the only thing he was hearing at this point.
And he was fading. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.
The rain, the pattering sounds, the kiss, all enveloped into one cloud of thought, blocking away other ideas of pushing away, and physically hurting the other.
And ever so slowly, green eyes closed, giving in, replying back to the idiot.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered.
His hair getting wet, his clothing sticking to his body, his hands now clutching onto the Rain's baseball uniform shirt-- nothing.
For a split second, the lips left his, warmth drawing away with it. Yamamoto had rounded to the other side, turning his head along, before pulling him into another mind - blowing kiss.
Both of the other's hand made its way towards his shoulders, then slid down to grab his hands.
Fuck.
He was giving in.
To a fucking idiot.
But at this point, he did not care.
The bastard had deepened the kiss, clinging onto his arms before pulling him closer.
It was warm again.
Gokudera breathed, just noting that his hands were hung on the idiot's shirt, as if he wanted more.
But then, the idiot drew away, grinning the stupid boyish grin he always had.
The Italian scowled, folded his arms and turned away, trying to forget how fucking wonderful the kiss had felt.
The laugh was back again.
He ignored it, and stormed off in the direction of his house, shoving the hope of having the idiot follow him aside.
" Hey, wait up, Gokudera ! "
He ignored that tempting voice, shoving his hands into his pockets, sniffing as he just noticed that he had dropped his cigarette back when that happened.
" Aha, wait, Gokudera ! "
This time, he stopped, and glanced back, trying to keep a scowling face on his expression.
" What the hell do you want ? "
" I said I was helping you dry off, right ? Haha. "
" I can do it by myself ! Go home ! "
" No. "
The Storm stiffened slightly from the straight - forward answer.
" What the fuck do you mean by ' no ' ? Go home ! "
" Gokudera-- "
" GO. HOME. I don't want a stalker-- DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME ! "
" Sorry, Gokudera. You're so tempting. "
" LET GO, BASEBALL BASTARD ! " he struggled against the familiar embrace.
" Just give me a chance, Gokudera . . . I'll make you happy. "
" LIKE HELL ! LET THE FUCK GO ! "
" Just one more time, then . . . ? "
" NO. LET. ME. GO. BEFORE I BLOW YOUR ASS TO ITALY ! "
" One more time . . . and I won't bother you again, Gokudera. "
" NO. "
" Please, Gokudera. I want . . . I need to taste you again. "
He scowled once seeing that the idiot was biting his bottom lip, eyes down casted.
" ARE YOU DEAF ?! FUCK ! DO NOT TOUCH ME, YOU BASTARD ! "
He broke away, thankfully. Once shoving the arms away, he fixed his eyes on the way he was running, but they did not move. His feet were not cooperating. He scowled.
" Gokudera, I-- "
" JUST SHUT THE HELL UP ! Don't talk to me, you freak ! "
Silence waved over again. The rain sounded hard against the concrete once more. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke for a bit.
Five minutes passed ; they were getting drenched completely, like if they were not before.
Then ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
He was getting sick of standing in the rain. Shuffling his feet, he glanced behind him, about to tell the other off when realizing that he was glaring at no one.
The idiot had left him. In the rain. For many minutes in which he did not know of.
The bastard.
Snorting to himself, he headed home, hands back in his pockets.
He did not need the baseball idiot. He did not care one bit. All he was here for was to protect the tenth, not argue with a certain idiot until his voice box was broken.
The idiot can do what he may like as long as it did not involve him or the tenth. He would not care.
He would not even care if the idiot were to kill himself.
. . . Maybe a little, if it was so.
Arriving at the front porch of his house, he scanned the area for any footsteps that might tell him if the bastard was hiding behind the door, waiting to jump out on him when he entered. There were a few, so he took caution.
Edging towards the door, his eyes narrowed at a flapping piece of white paper, taped to the door from flying away.
Snatching it from the original position, he read over the words quickly, paused, then reread it slowly. It took him five times reading the few words to have him finally understand.
' Hey Gokudera. I guess it didn't work out. I tried. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I do really like you though. No, Gokudera, I love you. I know that you don't feel the same way. A crazy part of me thought that you actually could return them . . . I guess that part was wrong. I won't see you again, I won't talk to you again, Gokudera. I don't want to hurt you more than I already have. I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want to put everything on you yesterday and today. I'm sorry. I know this note is probably being burned right now. I just wanted you to know, Gokudera, that I truly love you . . . more than a friend. This will be the last words I'll say to you. Good bye, Gokudera. '
That IDIOT.
Throwing the note over his shoulder, his hands sprung to life, fumbling with opening the door. Once it was thrown open, he did not even bother to close it.
His head was spinning, his heart was racing faster than before as he made a grab at the phone, quickly punching in the idiot's number.
He began pacing around, ignoring the opened door still, and the fact that rain was coming in. The phone rang, and rang.
It felt like hours before a voice took over.
" Hello, you've reached the Yamamoto residance ! Haha, sorry we're not home right now to return your call. But if you leave a message, we'll get right back at you as soon as we can ! Haha, see ya ! "
" Fuck. " He hissed into the phone, pulling it away from his ear and glaring at it before placing it back in position next to his ear. He stopped his pacing at this moment.
" You. Fucking. Idiot. What the hell are you saying on this fucking note, you bastard ?! ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE, YOU BASTARD ! " He paused slightly, trying to calm down his nerves. " Fuck. You know how fucking SCARED I was, idiot ?! WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU PICKING UP ?! PICK THE DAMN PHONE UP, BASTARD ! " Silence. " You . . . You fucking idiot, why the hell did you write that note ? You're fucking stupid idiot. Fuck. I don't know what to think now ; you fucking idiot ! You do not know how much I despise you right now. " Still no pick up of the phone. " ANSWER, YOU FUCKING IDIOT ! I KNOW YOU'RE AT HOME, AND YOU'RE LISTENING TO THIS ! ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE ! I HATE YOU ! DAMMIT ! " More silence. " You don't know how far up my ass your words actually went. You're fucking stupid. You're stupid by making ME stupid, you bastard. "
Answer the phone, you fucking bastard. I need to know . . . if you're alright. Answer the phone. Answer the phone. Answer the fucking phone already !
" You . . . YOU FUCKING BASTARD ! GETTING ME ALL FUCKING WORRIED OVER YOUR FUCKING ASS OVER A FUCKING NOTE ! GET THE HELL OFF YOUR ASS RIGHT NOW AND-- "
BEEP. " You have reached the maximum-- "
" SCREW IT ! " Hanging up, he waited three seconds before calling back, and before long, getting the voice mail voice again.
" DID YOU FUCKING KILL YOURSELF OVER THERE ?! ANSWER THE FUCKING DAMN PHONE BEFORE I HEAD OVER AND-- "
The phone suddenly slipped from his hands, dropping to the floor with a loud clatter. He paid it no more attention.
Eyes widening slightly, the Italian froze in place at the arms that had wrapped itself around his body, pulling him against the person whom had embraced him.
" I'm sorry, Gokudera. "
He couldn't speak, but merely stand, frozen in place, shocked from the fact that the idiot had . . . had heard every single word he had spoken into the phone.
He felt the other rest his head on his. He still did not move. He was pretty sure the idiot was tired of him not responding, so he spoke, and he listened . . . actually paid attention to the words this time.
" I'm sorry, Gokudera . . . I didn't mean to scare you, or worry you. I . . . didn't think that you would care. "
He did not care . . . did he ?
" I can't bring myself to leave you . . . I can't live a day without talking to you . . . I need to see you again. I didn't mean to get you angry at me . . . I guess that was all my fault . . . I can't explain everything on paper. I tried, but they all sounded like I'm desperate. No, I am desperate, Gokudera. I realize . . . I . . . I can't stay away from you. I know that you won't be talking to me after this . . . maybe never again, but, as I said in the note . . . I had a little faith that you did. "
Another long, silent pause.
" I don't want to hurt you, Gokudera . . . but I can't stand to not talk to you again . . . Please, " he felt the other dig his head more into his hair, inhaling and exhaling a few times before continuing. " Gokudera . . . Just give me a chance . . . I won't make you regret it . . . any of it . . . I love you more than you know. I . . . that it's . . . "
The arms withdrew from around him.
He did not find him chasing the idiot out of his house, or going off, or even running away, instead, he found himself turning around to grab the other's shirt, hauling the idiot closer.
He was standing on his tiptoes, trying to match the height of the taller male ( even if he came no where close to it ), his eyes half - lidded, his lips hovering the chin of the idiot.
" You fucking idiot . . . " he whispered loudly over the pouring rain outside before pulling the shirt down more so that he could meet the lips of the baseball player with his.
And then . . . everything . . . the world, it all disappeared from his sights, leaving everything that mattered was the idiot . . .
( Author`s Note // )
Wao.
I started this during a road trip a week ago . . . and yeah. D8
I didn't exactly like how it came out when I reread it for spelling errors. =/
Oh well.
Hope you enjoyed anyways.
It's my longest one shot. 8DDD
Though, I was thinking about making a sequel or something.
Your thoughts ? o.O
Disclaimer. Right. If I were to own KHR I would . . .
( /starts naming things off of long, long list )
But since I do not, I can not. D8
Ahhhhssooo ;
If you find the words ' fudge ', ' crap ', ' heck ', ' dang ', or ' teme '
anywhere in this fanfiction, tell me.
Because I need to change it. DD8